Snapshots
by Heero de Fanel
Summary: A sporadically updated shortfic collection consisting of quick, bite-size looks at what might go unseen in Erebonia at any given moment. Some genfic, some shippy. (Soften Them Up: Takes place pre-CSI. George drops in on Towa unannounced with some surprises in tow.)
1. Training Day

AN: I needed an outlet for random ideas that I'm not sure would support a full story, and I had a ton of fun writing my last drabble! Can't promise how often this'll be updated, but hey; at least it's a thing now.

* * *

 **Training Day**

"W-What happened to your eye, Laura?!"

"Oh, this?" the Arseid heiress laughed uncomfortably, her hand coming up to brush over the very noticeable bruise. "It's nothing, really. Just a little sparring… mishap, of sorts."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "Right, you mentioned training with Machias earlier. I guess he managed to land a pretty good hit, huh?" he continued, clearly impressed in spite of his concern.

"If only," she murmured, her cheeks reddening.

The staff wielder blinked. "Come again?"

"Let's just say the next time I attempt to try firing an orbal shotgun, I'll pay more heed to our vice president's warning about recoil and the proximity of one's face to the sights," she finally managed, sounding very much like she wanted to be somewhere – anywhere – else.

… Huh.

"I, uh, see," Elliot coughed delicately into his sleeve, trying the best he could to spare his friend's wounded pride. "Honestly, I wouldn't worry about it too much – I mean, they're definitely not easy weapons to use!"

She shrugged, not looking entirely convinced. "True enough, and I suppose I wasn't alone in having trouble adjusting."

"Wasn't – oh, you mean Machias switched weapons too? How did he do?" he asked, interest piqued.

"He'll let you know when he can feel his arms again," came a weak groan from a vaguely VP shaped lump on the nearby couch, leading to Elliot's sudden double take and a weak chuckle from Laura, who sent a sympathetic glance in the gunner's direction.

"It remains a work in progress."


	2. Doppelganger

AN: I'm supposed to be working on another Rean/Alisa story, but dammit there's no way I can leave this unaddressed anymore because ONE HAS JUSTICE HAMMER AND THE OTHER HAS JUSTICE BULLET

I DON'T KNOW WHEN THIS COULD HAPPEN BUT IN MY HEAD IT MUST

* * *

 **Doppelganger**

They just kept on staring. It was getting to be unsettling, to be perfectly honest.

"May I help you with something?" Machias finally asked, feeling a little wary at the increased scrutiny that Crossbell's SSS was giving him lately - even more so when it came when they thought he wasn't looking.

"Not as such," Elie replied, crossing her arms and tilting her head, looking thoughtful. "It's just – Lloyd, the resemblance really is uncanny, isn't it?"

"I told you!" the detective exclaimed with no small amount of vigor, his fist slamming into his open palm for emphasis. "I thought I was seeing things at first, but…"

 _Seeing what?_

"Plus he's quite the marksman himself, so I hear."

 _W-Well, that was very gratifying, but -_

"Hey, do you think he can throw a decent punch?"

 _What in the world did that have to do with **anything?**_

"Possibly, but I doubt he's the type to be interested in collecting shoes."

 _... Shoes?_

"He doesn't look like it, but then again..."

His eyebrow twitched.

"I don't suppose an explanation for all this is in order?" Machias probed, a little annoyance now coming to the fore at being treated like a specimen for examination, and the amused smiles the pair exchanged didn't help matters.

"Oh, sorry!" Lloyd apologized sheepishly, one hand coming up in a contrite gesture. "I know this'll sound kind of strange, but we have a question – you wouldn't happen to be related to a man by the name of Alex Dudley by any chance, would you?"


	3. Unspoken

AN: Inspired by a moment from the Cold Steel II drama CD (translation can be found on the official site and audio can be found on YouTube), here's a little Machias/Emma!

H-HEY WAIT WHERE ARE YOU ALL GOING

* * *

 **Unspoken  
**

The relief that Emma felt when she saw her friends and the townspeople of Alster was short-lived, to say the least.

"Machias! You're hurt!" Millium exclaimed, her concern overpowering her natural exuberance, and the witch bit back a sharp gasp when she saw the crimson stain marring the side of the gunner's combat jacket.

"Y-Yeah… but don't worry," Machias managed, unable to keep from grimacing as his hand applied more pressure to the still fresh wound, protecting it from further exposure to the cold air. "It's just a scratch…"

He was lying, she realized immediately as she rushed over, paying no heed to the startled look on his face. Scratches didn't bleed like that and they both knew it.

"He ran into them during his patrol," Elliot added in reference to the jaegers that attacked the town, watching as Emma knelt beside him and laid her hands atop his own.

"Stay still," she told him, doing a remarkable job at keeping the worry out of her voice. "I'll try and ease the pain with my magic."

His eyes met hers with the barest shake of his head, and she had known him long enough to understand, combat link or no. _'It's not that bad. Don't waste the energy.'_

She frowned, her thumb running along the rough skin of his knuckle. _'It's bad enough. You're still hurt.'_

 _'You don't have to.'_

 _'I want to.'_

Machias shook his head again, more resolute this time. ' _Emma –_ '

' _Please,_ ' her sapphire eyes implored, and she knew it was checkmate because he had never been able to deny her anything.

"… Thanks," he finally murmured, sheepishly averting his gaze.

She smiled at his concession before willing her power into her hands with a whispered " _Lux solis medicuri eum!_ " and the sigh she heard when the healing light washed over him unwound the knot in her stomach and banished her unease.

There would be time to scold him for worrying her later. Right now, she was just glad he was okay.

 _'Better?'_ she asked with a caress of his hand, and his warm fingers slipping through hers told her all she needed to know.


	4. Irresistible, Immovable

AN: So I noticed that my last three chapters feature Machias in some way, shape, or form - time to fix that! Fair warning; not only am I not sure when this could ever take place, I'm also fairly certain that this is - to use a very technical term - OOC AF.

Still, I suppose that's where the fun is, isn't it?

* * *

 **Irresistible, Immovable**

"You're aware, of course, of my father's sterling combat record over the years?" Laura asked the bracer, her normally polite smile having been turned into something of a pained grimace.

"Oh yeah, absolutely. You're aware, of course, of how big a role my dad played in Liberl putting the boot to your Empire's ass way back when?" Estelle mimicked with a mocking grin that looked a little too close to a snarl for everyone's liking.

"We should really try to stop this," Rean whispered desperately to the dark haired man next to him, his arms crossed as he watched the proceedings with an air of bemused resignation.

"We probably should," Joshua conceded with a shrug, and the swordsman would never know how he managed that so casually while also looking like he'd have rather been literally anywhere else in existence.

"… We won't, will we."

"Oh, no. I mean, this can't be stopped. Even if your friend could overlook the inadvertent – I think – insult to her father's honor, when Estelle gets like this, she… well, I grew up with Estelle. I know firsthand how futile any effort to interrupt this would be."

"And this has nothing to do with the fact you might agree with her?" Alisa chimed in next, her tone as flat as her expression.

He shrugged again. "It might. I'm certainly not claiming it doesn't, at any rate."

"Gee, aren't you a big help."

"Enough of this forestalling," Laura declared sharply, her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. "What exactly is it you're trying to imply here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Estelle smirked, jerking her head at Joshua with a flourish, and as everyone else present held their breath –

"Our dad can beat up your daaaaad~!"

(And somewhere in the ineffable realm that the Goddess called home, Aidios found Herself turning around in momentary bewilderment, wondering exactly what *that* had been).

"Y-You take that _back!"_ came Laura's hue and cry, her sword having left its holster in an instant as her equilibrium **shattered** , and if any of the observers happened to notice her momentary resemblance to the current head of the Stahlritter, they were smart enough to keep it to themselves.

"Why don't you try and _make_ me, huh?!" Estelle snapped, her staff coming up at the ready, and as a panicked Rean and Alisa tried to step in between the clashing auras while Joshua stood there massaging his temples:

"Whatever," Fie mumbled from a few riges away, looking more than a little put out at the debate. "I bet _my_ dad could've taken them both."


	5. Reset

AN: Because she's always by her garden, and he's always fishing away nearby. I refuse to believe they weren't friends by the end.

* * *

 **Reset**

After everything that had gone on recently, seeing Thors so full and lively again left Edel at somewhat of a loss.

It wasn't that she was unhappy or particularly disturbed, no. Having the unsettling disquiet that had become the norm during the civil war be replaced with the sounds of joyful reunion warmed her heart, something that was only underscored when she arrived at her flowerbeds scant days after things had settled down only to see Vivi and Fie there, trowels in hand and awaiting her arrival with a big grin and a quiet smile.

(That, much to their mock chagrin, had been more than worth a hug).

It had been back to business as usual for Thors at large, and yet the Gardening Club head couldn't shake a slight sense of unease. After all, when all you had done for the past months was worry, it was a little difficult to simply stop and smell the roses… so to speak.

She sighed as she adjusted her hat, letting her aimless gaze wander from her garden, to the sky, to the pond -

Only to stop dead at the familiar sight of a brown haired boy calmly fishing on the bank, cap tucked over his bangs, standing there like he had for so many days before Thors fell – almost like he had never left, as a matter of fact.

Something must have given her away, because after a moment Kenneth looked up and lit up in immediate recognition.

"Hey!" he called out to Edel with a laugh, raising one hand in customary greeting. "It's been a while! Great day for fishing, isn't it?"

It was the beginning to a mundane exchange they'd had countless times before, and one that she rejoiced to no end they could have again.

"It's a great day for gardening, too!" she replied, her heart lighter than it had been in quite some time, and they both returned to their tasks with smiles on their faces, each relieved their friend was all right.

She was with her flowers, he was with his lake, and all things considered it finally felt something like normal.


	6. Overdue

AN: You know these two would totally throw down at some point.

* * *

 **Overdue**

"Pardon me."

Laura looked up from her desk with a smile, greeting her butler with a polite nod. "Think nothing of it, Klaus. Is there something that requires my attention?"

"Indeed. Two visitors have arrived seeking an audience; well, to be more specific, one of them has come for – "

She tilted her head in curiosity; clearly, Fie's influence had left its mark. "A challenge, perhaps?" Laura finished, setting her pen down and looking at the older man intently.

Klaus hid a smile of his own, undoubtedly remembering the same kind of reaction from a much younger Laura – and a much younger Viscount, for that matter. "Correct. They claim to have been on an arduous training journey, and one of them wishes to test their skills against the inheritor of the Arseid School."

She nodded once; it wouldn't be the first time someone had appeared at their doorstep with that motivation, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. "I see. I'll be there to greet them shortly and take them to the training hall, though I must ask – do you think their confidence accurately reflects their ability?" she inquired, trusting his judgment implicitly while knowing full well that most of the time, the answer was 'no'.

The ensuing moment of silence told her another story entirely.

"… Be ready, my lady," he exhaled solemnly, every fiber of his being exuding respect.

With that, Klaus bowed and walked out, Laura's sharp gaze following him all the way out the door, and when she arrived at the foyer dressed for battle with her sword at her side, she immediately understood why.

"Yo," Loggins called out, raising a hand in a casual wave. "Sorry for barging in like this, but she couldn't wait. Some things don't change, y'know?"

She acknowledged her former upperclassman with the briefest of glances, and as her gaze turned toward the second visitor, she was wholly unsurprised to find her opponent staring back, her violet eyes shining with a determination that Laura knew was reflected in her own.

"Well met, Laura S. Arseid. I apologize for my intrusion," Friedel said with a polite smile that barely cloaked the steel beneath, the erstwhile Fencing Club captain ever dignified as she tapped her sheathed blade with an index finger, "but I was hoping that you might indulge a request of mine…"

… And as her blood turned to fire and made her spirit roar to life, Laura found herself smiling back, much to Loggins' amusement and Friedel's satisfaction.

"I believe that can be arranged."


	7. The world turned sweet

AN: A Valentine's Day fic without actually being a Valentine's Day fic, because while there's nothing saying that it's recognized in CS... there's also nothing saying that's it's not, either :P Title's from a Katherine Bates poem ("Love planted a rose, and the world turned sweet").

* * *

 **The world turned sweet**

 _" **What**_ – er, Alisa Reinford speaking."

 _"Whoa there, Alisa. Everything okay?"_

"Oh, Rean," she sighed as she loosened her grip on the ARCUS, the frustration with how her day had gone so far all too evident. "Hey."

 _"Hey yourself. Rough time at the office, I take it?"_

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you don't know the half of it. It's like a quarter of our clientele forgot what logistics were for this last shipping period and now we're putting our fires left, right, and center. Mother's about ready to have a fit, and considering how unflappable she usually is… well, that kinda says it all."

He chuckled at that. _"An angry Irina on the warpath. Definitely not something you want to face if you can help it."_

"… You still sound like you want to see it, though."

 _"Morbid curiosity, I guess. I'm only human."_

"Could've fooled me with the workload you have," Alisa teased, her mood lightening rapidly in spite of herself. "Everything good on your end?"

 _"Good's a relative term, but I'm keeping my head above water somehow."_

"That's a relief," she murmured; Alisa knew it sounded paranoid even in her own head, but she couldn't help but feel a little stab of worry whenever he called.

 _"Mm. I'm fine, Alisa – I actually just wanted to let you know that I got your package. Express mail's really worth its weight in mira, huh?"_

Immediately, Alisa's face turned a brilliant red as she almost dropped her ARCUS, the blonde just barely managing to collect herself in the nick of time. "A-Already?"

 _"Yeah,"_ he continued, pausing for a beat as his tone grew warm and soft and entered the timbre that made her heart beat just that little bit faster. _"The chocolates were delicious. Best I've ever tasted, and I'm not just saying that."_

"… I-I might have had some help from Sharon," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor; the carpeting of her office suddenly looked very fascinating. "Desserts were never my specialty."

 _"Could've fooled me with how good they tasted,"_ Rean parroted with a fond laugh. _"Thanks."_

She started to say something – she wasn't sure what – but a knock and the sound of the door opening snapped her back into office-mode immediately. "Sorry. Gimme a sec," she apologized, putting the call on hold before turning to face the new arrival –

"Excuse the intrusion, my lady," Sharon greeted with a tiny smile, the bouquet of roses she was holding making Alisa's jaw drop and her blush return with a vengeance. "These just came for you – I hardly think it's necessary to tell you who sent them. Would you like me to set them on your desk?"

The blonde nodded wordlessly, only acknowledging the maid's curtsy and departure with the briefest of nods as she scanned the card.

A barely restrained laugh and another punch of the hold button later, "You're _so_ lame. 'Stop and smell the roses?' Seriously?"

 _"Hey, clichés are clichés for a reason. I wasn't really sure what to buy, to be honest. I've never - I just - I hope you like them."_

"They're beautiful, Rean," she whispered, tenderly running a fingertip along a soft petal. "Thank you."

 _"You're welcome. Love you, Alisa,"_ and she could hear the grin in his words, happy and bright.

"Love you too. Stay safe, and don't work too hard, okay?"

 _"Pretty sure that's my line, but I'll try my best if you try yours. Talk soon?"_

"You bet."

She set the ARCUS down when she heard the click and looked at the flowers in her lap with a gentle expression, her work for the day briefly forgotten. Yes, there were still shipments to fix, records to correct, and deadlines to meet, but she supposed that was all right; if it took moments like that to make moments like this feel all the more worth it, that was something she was more than happy to live with.

Alisa closed her eyes, lowered her head, and breathed.

Lovely.


	8. First Impressions

AN: Lest his character development makes us forget, early CSI Machias is less 'endearing tsundere' and more 'obnoxious dick'. I'd like to think he'd try to reign it in around anyone that's not Jusis or a blueblood, but given his pathological need to try and beat Emma during the first game and his far poorer self control...

* * *

 **First Impressions  
**

"Emma Millstein."

Her eyes flicked upwards from the sheaf of papers she was leafing through before she smiled in recognition at her new classmate/fellow class representative. "Oh! Machias, right? Good timing, there was actually something I need to speak to you about."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. "Hmm. That's an interesting coincidence; I have something I need to say myself. By all means though, you first."

He wasn't quite frowning, but he sure didn't look like he was in a good mood either; Emma could only assume that he had gotten into another altercation with the Albarea heir. They had a tendency to do that, though who started what seemed to vary from minute to minute.

"W-Well," she started uncertainly, a little put off by his vexed expression, "I just wanted to say that as the two representatives for Class VII, we should do our best to make our first year a good one! I've never done anything in this kind of capacity before, but I'm more than willing to put in the effort if you are. What do you think?" Emma finished with a bright smile as she began to extend her hand -

"Of course. That should go without saying. I'll be putting my best foot forward as the Class VII vice-president, don't you worry. But let me inform you now," Machias said, his eyes suddenly vanishing behind a wall of opaque glare, "I have no intention of repeating my term of office."

She blinked. "I-I'm sorry…?"

"The roles of president and vice-president were determined solely on entrance exam scores, correct? I admit that you managed to best me this time around, but that won't happen on mid-terms or finals, much less in our second year!"

"Wait, what – "

"Furthermore, while I fully respect and acknowledge your abilities it certainly doesn't mean that I'm going to stand idly by, simply content with being the academic runner-up!"

"I – "

"Mark my words," Machias continued, pushing his glasses up with flourish as he turned to leave. "I'll knock you off your throne before the year's out, I promise you that."

"You'll – "

"I **promise** you that."

And with that, the boy departed without a second glance, leaving an utterly befuddled Emma in his wake.

"P-Pleased to be working with you too," she finally managed, her eyes wide and her hand still loosely held out.

Goddess, what had she gotten herself into...?

* * *

"So you're saying he _wasn't_ always the charmer he is now?" Celine mocked, smirking as a groaning Machias buried his face in one palm. "Shocking. Absolutely shocking."

"Oh, he got better pretty quickly," Emma replied with a fond sigh, patting his other hand. "Even back then, he was a lot softer than he let on once you got to know him, which was lucky for me; I'm not sure what I would have done that first year without my fellow bibliophile."

"Hung out with Dorothee more than you already did?" she tossed out, bounding to the windowsill in one quick hop. "Though this little trip down memory lane does make me curious; did he ever manage to beat you at least once before everything went down the tubes, or did he end up having to settle for ties the rest of the time?"

Emma smiled nervously. Machias gritted his teeth and looked at his feet. Celine started to cackle.

"I'll take that as a no."


	9. Mirror Image

AN: To all those that have played Tokyo Xanadu; don't think too hard about how this possibly could have happened, because lord only knows that I'm not :P And if you haven't played TX... uh, this'll probably confuse you immensely.

* * *

 **Mirror Image**

"… So you're seeing what I'm seeing, right?" Rean murmured, staring at the two diminutive brunettes slowly mirroring each other's motions, marveling at the impossible made possible. Beside him, Kou made a face.

"Midgets in stereo? Yeah, that's kinda hard to miss."

Luckily for the second year, that particular remark went unheard.

"I still don't understand how this is possible," Towa Herschel said to Towa Kokonoe, their right hands still moving in unison. "I don't have any siblings or relatives, much less identical ones, but…"

"The same goes for me!" Kokonoe echoed with a grin. "If only my grandfather could witness this, I might finally see him at a loss for words after all these years…"

Ignoring the scoff from her honorary younger brother, the teacher looked at her doppelganger with a curious glimmer in her eyes. "So, let's recap. Our family lives and backgrounds are very different, but besides that…"

"… We have the exact same general physical qualities, to the point where we could be twins. Our personalities seem to be pretty in sync as well," Herschel noted, before turning to flash a mischievous grin at the two boys. "Plus, it looks like we have something else in common too!"

Kou's eyes narrowed.

Rean's eyebrow twitched.

"It looks like we do," Kokonoe laughed. "Does yours like to work himself into the ground on a routine basis?"

"Oh, not quite a routine basis - only on days that end in 'y'. Does yours help everyone without asking for anything in return?"

"Always! I've tried to break him of that habit, but he's very stubborn about it."

"They do know we're still standing here, right?" Rean groused, crossing his arms while trying and failing to fight down a blush.

"I guess? I mean, all they can probably see are our legs, but that's probably good enough."

"… How many different ways do you have to call them short, exactly?"

"Only about seventeen years' worth."

Meanwhile, the two Towas were now regarding them with sad puppy dog expressions; something they both knew didn't bode well.

"You know what we have to do, don't you?" Herschel asked her counterpart, resolution coming over her delicate features.

Kokonoe nodded furiously. "Of course! They need to be trained out of this, and learn to think of themselves for a change! They can't keep making everyone worry all the time, can they?"

"Of course not! That'd just be inconsiderate."

"W-Wait a minute," Rean sputtered, not liking where this was going one bit.

"It's settled then! An alliance it is; it'll be a pleasure to work with you, Ms. Kokonoe," she declared, reaching out for a vigorous handshake.

"And you as well, Ms. Herschel!"

"Oh hell no," Kou muttered, warily glancing at the door and wondering if he could make it before…

"Rean!"

"Kou-kun!"

The swordsman swallowed hard. "R-Running away doesn't work with your Towa, does it?"

"Probably about as well as it works with yours. Thought about it, though."

"Ah. We're screwed, then."

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

* * *

"We really shouldn't be enjoying this, should we?" Asuka noted, watching the proceedings with an air of quiet satisfaction.

"Nope. That's not gonna stop me, though," Alisa snickered, reaching out to grab her mug for another sip of her beverage. "This is amazing coffee, by the way. We have a friend that'd jump through hoops for some of this."

"Haha. Well, that's certainly flattering."


	10. Deja Vu

AN: For those of you who keep up with Twitter fanartists, blame (the very awesome) iori147 for this one; ran Google Translate on one of their tweets and wound up with this idea running through my head!

* * *

 **Deja Vu**

"Someone looks comfortable."

Emma flushed at Alisa's good natured jibe, but remained seated on the soft grass nonetheless, her right hand idly combing its way through Machias' green hair as he rested his head on her lap, fast asleep.

"He never did get enough rest. Not at Thors, and certainly not now," she noted ruefully, a look of fond exasperation crossing her delicate features. "He started to nod off while we were waiting for you, and... well…"

"I think we can suss out what happened next," Rean quipped, deciding to spare his former class president any undue embarrassment. "I'm kind of surprised he accepted the offer, though. I guess he's moved past his 'shake his head and deny, deny, deny' days?"

"Please. You're making it sound like she had to really twist his arm on his one," Celine sniffed from her position beside Emma, causing her partner's blush to deepen and forcing Rean and Alisa to hide tiny smiles.

"… Anyway," Emma coughed, trying to salvage some kind of dignity out of the situation. "I trust you both managed to finish any business you had?"

"Oh yeah, we're all good," Alisa replied with a nod. "We're all ready to go once he's… uh, upright."

The feline took that moment to stand on all fours, arching her back with a satisfied purr. "Leave that to me."

"W-Wait, what are you – " Emma stammered, her eyes widening in alarm behind her glasses as Celine sauntered up to Machias with a grin, tapping a paw (sans claws, thank the Goddess for small blessings) on his left cheek.

Machias stirred, one eye blearily cracking open at the contact, and considering he was greeted with Celine immediately yowling in his face as only a cat could – well, his reaction certainly made sense.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAH-!"

"Ah…!"

What happened next was a comedy of errors that involved a scrambling Machias and a flailing Emma, both trying and failing to regain their equilibrium in the subsequent chaos, and perhaps if Rean hadn't been observing, things _might_ have ended up differently.

But alas, he was watching, and thus there was only one way things could have ended; with a frozen Emma on top of an equally frozen Machias, his head buried within her ample chest.

If not for Celine's cackling, you could have heard a pin drop.

"Huh," Alisa intoned, her fingers curled into tight fists and her face contorted into a smile that could only be described as painfully forced, "would you look at _that?_ Where have I seen this before, I wonder?"

Rean, meanwhile, glared up towards the heavens, a dark and baleful look in his eyes. "This again, huh? Kurt and Juna weren't enough? Is this supposed to amuse You? Is this supposed to be funny? Because rest assured, it's **not!** "

"…" added Emma, looking more flustered than she'd ever been.

"So," said an understandably muffled Machias, "this is what it's like to be Rean. It's... novel."

The familiar scoffed, trotting off toward where Rean and Alisa were. "Come off it, you look way too comfortable where you are for this to be your first – "

"CELINE!"


	11. A kiss is just a kiss

AN: It's apparently Kiss Day in Japan today (May 23rd), and in honor of that I decided to go back into the vault, repurpose one of my olllllddddd Hikaru no Go fic plots, and toss the bookworms in the crosshairs because I have a sickness. You could probably slot this post Solitude and before All Good Things if you wanted to, but really... this is pure crack.

* * *

 **A kiss is just a kiss**

Out of all the things Machias could have asked her…

"I-I-I beg your pardon?" she squeaked, feeling faint; the perils of not getting enough oxygen at work, she supposed.

"A kiss," he repeated, looking at her intently from across their table. As if this was _normal._ "Would you like one?"

Emma stared.

Oh, so he did say that. On the one hand, it did come as a relief that she wasn't losing her mind and hearing things.

On the other hand, however…

"W-What?!" she stammered frantically, her cheeks turning what she could only assume was a brilliant shade of red. "I-I mean that's – you – this is – "

Machias heaved a sigh; though he was more patient with her than most, he still wasn't exactly a patient person to start with. "It's a yes or no question, Emma. Hardly worth the internal debate."

She snapped her mouth shut, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses upon hearing his dismissive tone. So, he was going to be like _that_ was he? Act like this was nothing at all?

"On second thought, Machias," she said, raising her chin defiantly (and trying very hard not to wonder if his lips were as soft as they looked), "Yes. I think I would like one."

"All right, then," he answered, getting to his feet with a nod.

Emma swallowed hard, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as she stood up herself, watching as he approached, and just when she thought he was going to lean in…

"Here."

Emma blinked, startled out of her trance by Machias casually dropping a number of foil wrapped objects onto the table.

"Take as many as you want. They're a decent energy boost in-between chapters, but my sweet tooth isn't quite developed enough to finish a whole bag," Machias told her, reaching into his satchel and shaking said bag for emphasis. "I'm very curious if this company did any market research – honestly, who thinks of chocolate when they hear 'Kisses'? What sort of focus group would that branding pass muster with?"

She wondered if the ground had ever actually opened up to swallow someone. It was such a common metaphor, and if she was being honest it was one that fit her perfectly right about now.

"I have **no** idea!" Emma said as brightly as she could, sitting back down as fast as she could before picking her book back up with shaking fingers, and if Machias thought her reaction was in any way odd, he kept it to himself.

Cold comfort, but she'd take it.

 _"Perhaps I'll skip the review tonight, flip through a novel instead,"_ she decided, bemoaning the difficulty she'd have in looking her friend in the eyes for the next little while. _"Fictional or not, someone should experience romance today."_

* * *

Much to her chagrin, the sight of the shiny treats never failed to make Emma blush, even years later; fortunately for everyone concerned, Machias had gotten far better about giving real ones in their place.

In her opinion, the embarrassment was worth it. She preferred those anyway, even if the whole thing did make Celine cackle endlessly.


	12. Full Circle

AN: For Father's Day. Honestly, part of me was wondering if it would be okay going back to the well to write this - premise-wise, it's very similar to Coda - but I eventually decided that while the basic plot was indeed very similar, the circumstances and viewpoints of the two POV characters were different enough to warrant the effort. Hoping that turns out to be the case!

* * *

 **Full Circle**

"It's been quite a long time," Carl Regnitz hummed, gingerly rocking the warm bundle in his arms with a practiced touch, "since I've held an infant your size. Fortunately for the both of us, it seems like there are things time won't permit me to forget."

His very new (and very perfect, in his humble and unbiased opinion) granddaughter said nothing in response, opting instead to continue slumbering peacefully within the confines of her small blanket.

Truth be told, that was probably best for everyone concerned. Her exhausted mother and father needed every bit of rest they could get; he remembered all too well how hectic the initial days of parenthood were.

"I wonder if you'll be anything like your father was?" he mused quietly. "He was a very curious baby, even as a newborn. Every day was an adventure as soon as he started crawling, believe it or not. Don't let that serious mien of his fool you - when that son of mine wants to learn about something, he's not going to be deterred or denied by anything or anyone."

Carl paused then, considering.

"Of course, from the few stories I've managed to glean from your elders – " his lips quirked up at recalling some of the tales that Vita and Roselia had 'covertly' passed on to him, much to Emma's displeasure – "your mother was hardly any different. Apparently she was just as inquisitive, especially when it came to her powers."

The corners of his mouth turned upward further at that. "Or perhaps I should say 'your' powers. After all, the inheritance you received from the Hexen is a great deal more tangible than anything our side of the family passed along – barring, of course, an excellent book collection. Take it easy on your parents when you begin pushing your boundaries, hmm?"

She barely stirred, and Carl's green eyes softened behind his lenses when he let his fingertips brush her soft, fine hair, permitting himself to be lost in the hazy mists of 'what if', the ache nowhere near as pronounced or sharp as it had once might have been.

"Your grandmother would have adored you, I hope you know that. Your cousin, too. They would have done their best to spoil you to no end… but between you and me, I fully admit they'd hardly be alone in that endeavor. After all, that's what grandparents and relatives are for, and I can hardly be remiss in my duty as such. It wouldn't do, not at all," he finished with a fond smile.

(It went without saying that the Hexen were going to do their own part, of course).

A pair of teal eyes gingerly opened then, the infant making a cooing noise but little more, and his heart warmed when he remembered Machias looking at him in much the same way the first time he had ever held him… the same Machias whose daughter he was holding now.

He exhaled. Goddess, how was it that the days had gone by so slow but the years had flown by so very fast...?

One of life's many vagaries. He might have ruminated on it in his younger years, but standing there now he felt no such inclination; age had brought with it a state of grace, it seemed.

"Hello, little one," Carl greeted, his voice warm and low. "Did I wake you?"

She blinked twice in reply.

"My apologies. You should go back to sleep, Aidios only knows you'll be up soon enough for a feeding," he laughed, but it seemed his tired granddaughter needed no prompting. Her eyes fluttered close as she yawned once and shifted until she was comfortable; the innate instincts of a tiny being that knew little else besides that she was warm and safe and so, so loved.

"Rest. We'll have plenty of time to get to know each other yet. But speaking of which," he sighed, sending a glance at the clock on the wall, "I should probably see about getting you back. There are plenty of people that still want to visit you…"

Nothing.

"Oh, if you insist," he 'acquiesced' with a playful sigh, a spark of mischief in his voice. "A few more minutes it is, then."

All things being equal, he had a feeling he was going to enjoy this grandfather business very much. Maybe he wasn't as spry as he had been years ago, but if he could handle his current position, then he could certainly handle running around after a toddler, couldn't he?


	13. Howl at the Peak

AN: I'd always wanted to go back to Gaius and Laura sparring; I just never thought that a line from Mulan would wind up being the inspiration. Also, whether this is shippy or gen is up to you because I wrote the damn thing and can't figure out which one I was going for by the end :P

* * *

 **Howl at the Peak  
**

They're only twenty seconds into their spar – perhaps less – and already Gaius understands that he's in deep, deep trouble.

A blur of blue and silver crashes toward him and his feet immediately backstep to pull him out of range, his spear held out front to deflect; with the weight difference in their weapons, he had no choice. He knew any attempts at parrying a full swing from Laura would simply lead to his spear being damaged beyond repair, a testament to the power at the disposal of the Arseid heiress, and while he had seen her strength firsthand in the Old Schoolhouse… there was a marked difference between witnessing and experiencing.

He stops her advances briefly with feints before his spear lashes out once, twice, three times, the thrusts meant to create openings and break through the seemingly impregnable wall of steel that Laura's greatsword had erected.

Gaius wasn't sure what sort of tell he was giving her, but her eyes knowingly flick left and right as her blade effortlessly swats his first two probes away. Before he can react, she takes the initiative, swinging in a wide arc with a loud cry, her sword meeting the spearhead and nearly sending the weapon flying out of Gaius' hands.

He grits his teeth and holds his ground as Laura swoops in to close the gap, his cross headed spear and her greatsword clashing time and again; though her strikes aren't nearly as effective as they might have been given that she's surrendering her favored range for pure proximity, he understands that's not her intention.

She presses forward and Gaius feels the exertion, feels the burning of his arms and legs and lungs; with each blow he successfully guards, she's grinding him further and further into the ground and they both know it. She's successfully turned this into a battle of attrition, taking his weapon's superior reach out of the equation and gambling that if she put them into a situation where it was unfavorable to them both, her style would be better suited to adapt than his.

Not an inaccurate assessment, to say the least. At this distance, her weapon is cumbersome. His is more so.

Of course, he has ways around that.

Laura freezes when her ears pick up a faint breeze and her eyes catch the glimpse of emerald swirling up and down the spear, and she doesn't chase when Gaius retreats.

Wasting no time, he sets his feet and looses the Gale Stinger with a roar –

Only to see Laura narrow her gaze and gracefully leap into the air, somersaulting with a flourish before her blade comes down, a wave of raw power coursing forth and splitting the earth before her.

The attacks meet with a crash, the impact sending Gaius flat onto his back, and when he regains his senses and looks up, he sees Laura battered but unbowed, her sword at the ready with a fey glint in her eye.

He knows he's already lost. He can barely move, he can barely breathe, and he can't remember the last time he saw spots swimming in his vision like _this_ –

Except a second later he does, and he recalls looking up at his father after a sparring session just like this one, listening in rapture as Lacan Worzel fondly told his son about the fierce training his own father had given him.

 _"I never won, not once. But then again, I never stopped my attempts, either."_

 _"But wasn't it hard? To keep on trying to beat Grandfather even though he was too strong for you?"_

 _His father smiled._

 _"Of course, but that was no excuse not to make the effort. You see Gaius, though the mountain will never bow or submit in the face of the wind – the wind must howl nevertheless."_

Laura watches as the lancer slowly pulls himself to his feet, and a satisfied smile graces her beautiful features when he meets her determined gaze with one of his own, his cross spear coming up in a familiar ready stance.

The immovable mountain.

The howling wind.

With two loud cries, they charge.

* * *

When he regains consciousness and sees Laura's worried face hovering above him, he wants to congratulate her on a battle well fought, to praise her for her strength and will, to tell her that she's everything he thought she'd be and more.

He supposes he can chalk it up to a mild concussion when instead he groggily manages "best two of three?" but he's glad to see that no harm's done when she bursts out laughing and reaches down to help him up.


	14. Scar Tissue

AN: Time may heal all wounds, but some wounds run deeper than others; a look at post CSII Rean from the outside in.

* * *

 **Scar Tissue  
**

"That looks like everything. Thanks for helping me move everything over, Alan."

The brown haired boy merely waved a hand in dismissal, shaking his head for good measure. "Don't worry about it! Considering everything you did for me – and everyone else – last year, it's the least I could do. Besides, it's not like we had to carry that much stuff over. You're _sure_ this is all you need?"

Rean nodded, gesturing to the bags on his new bed. "I'm definitely sure. Truth be told, I don't even know how often I'll be using this room; with things the way they are, I might be… uh, in and out quite a bit. Better to keep things simple and leave whatever I can live without in my old room. It's not like anyone's going to take it – well, not unless someone's in desperate need of fishing equipment or something."

"You know, I never thought of that," Alan mused. "I guess with Kenneth gone there's not gonna be a whole lot of fishing going on anymore…"

"I'm sure he found someone to pass the club onto in his stead," Rean replied, turning his gaze to the window. "Just like Friedel and Loggins passed on the Fencing Club to you and – "

The other boy groaned. "Please don't say it. It's weird enough that pretty soon first years are going to be looking to me as a club instructor, but having to work with Hyarms of all people is just…"

"If Machias and Jusis managed to survive their earliest days in Class VII, you and Patrick should be fine," Rean said with a quiet laugh. "Besides, he seems to have mellowed out a little."

"He's slightly less of an ass if that's what you mean, but Patrick is still Patrick," came Alan's swift counter, though the lack of any real venom was audible to anyone with functioning ears. "I mean, I thought you came to the common dorms to avoid his crap."

He shook his head. "Honestly, that had more to do with their dormitory being a little… much, for me. I prefer it simpler."

"I gotcha. I guess this is as close to your old one as you can get, right?" Alan asked, the question innocent.

"… I guess," Rean mumbled, and Alan didn't miss the shadow passing over his eyes nor how his shoulders stiffened and tensed when he looked away, his fingers curling into tight fists.

(What the weight of the world did to you).

"Rean…?"

He blinked, snapping back to attention with a contrite look. "I-I zoned out there, didn't I? Sorry, Alan. It's… uh, been a long day," he apologized, still sounding more than a little distant.

"Don't worry about it," Alan said, a look of sympathy crossing his features as he headed for the door. "Look, I'll leave you to settle in, maybe take a nap or something. I'm supposed to meet Bridget for dinner later; you should come with. It's been a while since she's seen you."

Rean flashed him a wan grin, and seeing how hollow it was sent a pang through Alan's chest. "So long as you don't mind a third wheel. I wouldn't miss it; tell her I'll be there, and thanks again for the help."

He nodded as he closed the door, and he tried not to think about how the sound echoed in his ears.

* * *

Alan didn't say anything when Bridget sat next on him on the warm grass, though he did relax a little when she leaned over and nestled against him, their fingers lazily entwining.

"So…?" she greeted, her voice hopeful.

"He's coming later. Guess that's something, right?"

She turned her head and looked at him, taking in his furrowed brow and downcast expression, and she bit her lip.

"He's not okay, is he."

Alan shook his head slowly, unable to shake the memory of the swordsman's empty, broken smile.

"Nope," he answered hoarsely. "Not even close."


	15. Holding Court

AN: I like tennis and I like Kurt and Juna. Needless to say, this is easily the most self indulgent fic I've ever written and considering the amount of bookworm stuff I've cranked out that's saying **a lot.**

* * *

 **Holding Court**

Agreeing to this particular request wasn't the brightest idea he's ever had, but it had been a while since he'd seen her and she was so enthusiastic...

"Have you been playing a lot?" Juna calls out from the other side of the net, casually spinning her racquet around her wrist in a manner that called back to her tennis club days.

"Not exactly," Kurt answers in a textbook example of understatement, adjusting the strings on his borrowed frame and hoping he'd be able to walk away from this with some dignity intact. "I'm guessing you have?"

"Oh, y'know. Here and there."

That's a yes if I've ever heard one.

Out loud, "I can't say I'm surprised! I don't suppose I could convince you to take it easy on me?"

Her eyes twinkle. "You wish."

* * *

They take a few minutes to warm up, slow and easy, exchanging rally balls from baseline to baseline. Rusty as he is, Kurt's shots clear the net with no issue; while he's not exactly a tennis player, he certainly has enough experience with the sport to do that much.

Juna's form is flawless as always, with no shortcuts even at half speed, and for a moment Kurt takes the time to admire the flowing motions that only muscle memory can bring; he of all people understands intimately the amount of effort needed to look effortless.

(He also notices every ball she strikes is landing within riges of the baseline with little to no deviation. This doesn't bode well, he notes).

* * *

"It's heads!"

Kurt nods in acknowledgement, walking to the backcourt. "Understood. I'll serve first, then."

* * *

Kurt's a little surprised when he holds his opening service game with relative ease; Juna's first three returns are all errors (though ones that are missing by thin, thin margins) and clearly something shows on his face because she snickers and makes a come on motion with one hand.

He narrows his gaze and obliges, and in the blink of an eye 40-0 turns to 40-15 when she detonates a forehand that's by him before he can even blink.

"Had to go for that one," she comments cheekily, and he tries not to feel too satisfied when he sets safety aside for the next point and wins the game with a clean ace.

* * *

"This could go down to the wire," Juna quips at 2-1, grinning as they change ends, and in spite of himself Kurt can't help but grin back.

* * *

The score's 3-3 when Kurt calls Juna's name, and when she turns around she's greeted with a playfully raised eyebrow and a teasing smile (two things Kurt Vander had never been known for, once upon a time).

"You can stop taking it easy on me now," he tells her, shaking his head a little as she blushes at being caught out so easily. "We're warmed up now, and truthfully... I'd like to see how far you've come."

She remains still for a moment or two before she exhales, smiles, and nods.

Kurt bounces the ball twice, getting ready to serve, and he readies himself for what's coming.

* * *

Two straight winners off decent serves make it 0-30, and when Kurt throws in an inopportune double fault he finds himself down triple break point with seemingly nowhere to hide.

He gamely tries to slide it out wide on the next point in an attempt to open up an angle and make her move off the baseline, but she reads the ball's flight perfectly and winds up with her two-handed backhand, viciously pummeling her return cross court.

Kurt runs and lunges, having to resort to a one handed slice he's never been proficient with just to get the ball back over the net, and he looks just in time to see her feet taking her outside the singles area for an inside-out forehand that catches nothing but line.

She pumps her fist. Game, Crawford. Crawford leads, 4-3.

* * *

"Is it too late to take it back?" Kurt deadpans as they take a quick water break.

"Way too late. Be careful what you wish for," Juna counters with a playful wink.

* * *

At 40-0 (courtesy of two aces and a service winner) Juna finally misses a first serve, and Kurt creeps a little closer, hoping to take advantage of what should be a shorter ball.

She makes him pay when she reaches back and fires a second serve loaded with heavy spin, one that twists in the air and viciously kicks to his weaker backhand, and not even his sharp eyes and quick feet are enough to get him anywhere close enough for a clean return -

But the ugly mishit, struck off his frame, manages to just catch the top of the net and drop on Juna's side, much to her mock annoyance.

"It's considered good form to apologize for luck like that, you know."

"I would if I were remotely sorry," and he's not all that surprised when he has to duck out of the way for her next serve.

* * *

It's 3-5, 30-40 - match point - and Kurt has seconds to try to formulate a strategy that won't end with a return ripped back by him. After a moment, he nods, lifting his arm and tossing the ball high into the sky.

As soon as the serve's struck, he's moving forward - though Juna's shot is powerful, loaded with pace and spin, the trajectory is exactly where she's been sending most of her aggressive returns all match long and he firms up his wrist to block it away into the open court for a clean winner.

Deuce.

Juna whistles, impressed. "Serve and volley match point down? Gutsy, Kurt."

He brushes a lock of hair out of his eyes and shrugs. "Fortune favors the brave."

* * *

It ends at 6-4 with an ace down the T, and he's proud to say that it was a respectable loss when all was said and done.

"Thank you for the game," Kurt says, old habits coming to the fore as they clasped hands.

"I'm pretty sure that's my line. I mean, tennis isn't really your thing, and you still - "

He shakes his head. "I still had fun. It's nice to change up the routine every once in a while, too. That said - would you consider chess next time?"

"Maybe. We should really make it sooner instead of later, though. I've kinda missed you," she tells him with a warm smile and pink cheeks, her arms coming around him in a hug (and he doesn't pull away, hot and sticky as they are, because Goddess only knows he's missed her, too).


	16. Hand to Hand

AN: A little bit of Machias+Alisa interaction, a little bit of Machias headcanon, and a little bit of Angelica being Angelica.

* * *

 **Hand to Hand**

"I don't suppose you've ever cross-trained for this sort of thing?" Machias asked Alisa, watching as she gingerly stretched on the padded floor.

"Nope," she admitted with a tight exhale, wincing when she pulled back. "Honestly, I never thought about it much, and I'm kinda lucky that it hasn't gotten me in trouble yet. I mean, if something knocks my bow out of my hands and I don't have time for an orbal art…"

"Fair point," Machias conceded with a grimace, knowing all too well that the same went for his trusted shotgun. "While it's true we might be ranged specialists, that's no excuse for being subpar at close quarter combat."

Alisa nodded. "Yeah, exactly. I'm guessing you haven't done anything like this either, then?"

A pause.

"Not in terms of structured training, no," he finally answered, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "That said, there were times where I may have had to resort to some – er, self-taught application."

She raised her eyebrows. "And that means…?"

"Let's just say the Ost District wasn't the best neighborhood and certain kids weren't always willing to let matters drop," Machias replied, his brow knitted in equal parts chagrin and irritation. "I'll leave it at that."

"Huh," Alisa muttered, more than a little surprised. "Can't say I ever pegged you as the type to get into schoolyard fights."

His shoulders came up in a resigned shrug. "Neither did they, and I'm certain it's what was being counted on. That said, I'm not exactly sure how much of that will be useful with whatever we'll be learning – although that reminds me," he belatedly realized, "I never asked which instructor would be teaching us, did I?"

Alisa's eyes widened a fraction; an unnerving tell. "Uh… you think I got an instructor for this?"

"Well, yes. I mean, who else would – "

The sound of the door being kicked open made them both turn at the same time, and the sight of Angelica's grinning face made Machias' blood run cold.

"Oh Goddess _no_ – "

"No need to call me that when it's just the three of us!" she gleefully proclaimed, cracking her knuckles with relish as she strode into the room. "Gotta admit, I didn't expect to be asked for some private instruction, but hey; the chance to spar with a hot, sweaty Alisa Reinford doesn't come up every day, right?"

"… And I'm regretting this already," the blonde sighed, all too used to her friend's antics at this point.

"C'mon, don't be like that! Trust me, I'll have the both of you whipped into fighting shape in no time flat," Angelica assured her with a wink, before extending a hand toward Machias that he (very hesitantly) shook. "You might not wind up as good as me, but you'll be able to hold your own when all's said and done.

"I-I certainly hope so. We'll do our best, at any rate," he said, deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt - for all her quirks, her skills were certainly first rate.

Her eyes gleamed _._ "I'm sure you will. Thank you for volunteering, by the way."

"Wait, volunt – WAAAAAAAH!"

"M-Machias?!"

"Lesson one; joint locks and immobilizing your enemy!" Angelica's voice boomed out, seemingly unconcerned with the current state of her 'volunteer'. "Oh yeah, before we go any further; you guys have safe words, right?"


	17. Breathless

AN: I've been wanting to expand a few of my 1sentence prompts along with fleshing out some headcanon for my boy; figured this would be a decent start! Man, it's been good to play as these two again...

* * *

 **Breathless**

When Emma finally got her coughing fit under control, Machias simply sighed and nodded with a resigned look on his face, understanding her reaction completely. "That's about how I reacted too."

"Cigarettes? You?!" she gasped, surprise warring with indignance as her hands settled on her hips, her textbook forgotten.

"Cigarett ** _e_** ," Machias corrected, looking pained. "Singular. It was only the one time, and Aidios only knows how close I came to hacking up a lung after I inhaled…"

Emma blinked.

"Oh. Well. Good, then," she murmured, relaxing a little before her curious eyes locked on his again. "But why would you even…?"

His shoulders came up in a shrug. "Patiry," he replied, as if the name explained everything.

Well, to be honest, it probably did, but…

"It was a dare," he hastened to explain when he saw the confused expression on her face. "Normally fending off her more inane ideas wasn't all that difficult – I'd had enough practice – but she was being stubborn that day, even for her, and to be honest… she knew me well enough to know what button to push."

"Ah. Called you a coward, did she?" she asked knowingly.

He rolled his eyes, both at the memory of the cheap provocation and how easily he fell for it. "Got it in one. I certainly paid for it; I felt sick for the rest of the day, and I'm pretty sure that Dad knew the exact reason why. Luckily for me he didn't make a big deal about it."

In fact, Machias wouldn't have been at all surprised if he'd had a hearty laugh behind closed doors; his father had always been willing to let his son make his own mistakes and learn from them, provided they weren't too serious.

Emma crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, considering. "Hmm. And here I thought you might have been trying to be rebellious."

He sent a dirty look in reply, shaking his head at her amused grin. "Please. Dad gave me no reason to be a malcontent. Besides, even if I had the inclination to do something like that I'd hardly go for something so stereotypical."

She giggled. "I can actually picture it now, though; a smaller, sullen Machias, glaring at his victorious friend and her confused sidekick – "

"I'm sorry, did I miss the part where you took a day trip to Heimdallr and witnessed this?"

"Before he raises the lit cigarette to his lips, thinking 'I'll show her!' with a resolved glint in his eyes," Emma continued 'narrating', her teasing smile growing with every second. "Meanwhile, the faint traces of silvery smoke dance in the night air."

"This was in the afternoon!"

"Artistic license."

"Ugh, I see the Literature Club's habits are well ingrained. Goddess forbid you should ever look into working as a biographer."

"Hehe. Anyway, he braces himself, painfully aware of his audience of two, and takes that first, fateful puff…"

"And nearly suffocates from the scorching taste, dropping the cigarette on the ground as he tries and fails to get clean air into his lungs thanks to all the coughing he's doing," Machias finished with a grimace. "The girl laughs, the other boy is confused, and Machias Regnitz never touches one again. The end."

"You know, I sort of like that story," she said with a fond shake of her head. "It teaches a lesson without being too heavy-handed and has a sympathetic protagonist. I wouldn't mind hearing more."

"Hmph. Nice try."

"Oh well. It was worth an attempt."

He sniffed at that, reaching out to grab his mug before her fingertips gently alighting on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

"Emma?"

"I'm glad you stopped, you know. Or didn't start. Whichever makes more sense, I suppose," she said, punctuating her words with a squeeze, her blue eyes soft with sincerity, and Machias could only wonder when it had become so easy, so trivial for her to disarm him like this.

"… I-It was only a dare, anyway. Besides, I still wince whenever I think of the taste," he said at last, turning and coughing to hide the warmth spreading onto his cheeks.

"Even so." Releasing his arm (and leaving him oddly bereft), she gestured to their textbooks and notes, the quiet smile never once leaving her face. "It's just one less thing for me to worry about. Shall we continue?"

Trivial. Goddess.

"Of course."


	18. Intellectual Property

AN: I tackled the CS Towa/TX Towa from one angle already. Here's another, and also; what is meta?

* * *

 **Intellectual Property**

"Hello, Kokonoe speaking!"

 _"Ah, sensei. Sorry to bother you like this – I got your number off Kou-senpai, I hope that's cool."_

"Shinomiya-kun?" Towa asked, a little surprised. "N-No, it's not bother at all! Can I help you with something?"

 _"Maybe. Senpai mentioned that you were in the Computer Club in university, right?"_

"That's right," she answered with a fond sigh, memories of simpler times coming back. "I might not have pursued it as a career, but I enjoyed my time there very much, and besides; the experience I gained lets me help the XRC! It was a worthwhile way to spend time, if I do say so myself."

 _"It uh… sounds like it. I did wanna ask, though – did any of your club members want to work in game design? And do you still keep In contact with any of them?"_

Her other hand came up to stroke her chin, considering. "Hmm… only one, actually! It's been quite a while since I've spoken with him, though. I certainly hope he's doing well! I should really drop him a line now that you mention it, Toshi-kun was always very supportive…"

A muted chuckle.

 _"Got it. Now this all starts to make sense."_

"What does?" Towa asked, a ring of curiosity in her voice. "Were you considering switching paths into game development after graduation, or…?

 _"… Sure, why not. Anyway, I've taken up enough of your time – thanks, Kokonoe-sensei!"_

"Wait, I – "

The Xiphone went dead as the connection was terminated, and Towa was left staring wordlessly at the dimming screen with more than a couple of questions running through her head.

* * *

"Supportive," Rion snorted, her eyes locked onto the TV monitor that currently had an image of a diminutive brunette in a green uniform on it. "Right. Some of our fans are really supportive too, but I don't see them sticking us in video games without asking permission first!"

"Hmph, I've seen some of your fans. They'd do a lot more than that if they could get away with it."

"Hush, Takahata-kun. Anyway," Mitsuki continued with a placid smile, soothing the steaming idol with a pat to her hand, "I suppose that conversation does explain a lot."

"D-Don't you think they could have done more than just changed the last name, though?" Sora spoke up next, watching intently as Yuuki ran through the rest of the on-screen conversation with a bored look on his face.

"Probably, but what's done is done," Asuka sighed, massaging her temples before turning to the dark haired boy beside her. "Do you have any thoughts, Tokisaka-kun?"

"I will give you every yen to my name if you let me be the one to break this to her."

"Let me rephrase that. Do you have any thoughts actually worth voicing?"

"Whatever we do," Yuuki grumbled, "can I stop playing this now? If it hadn't been for our teacher's unscheduled cameo I don't think I'd have made it this far as is, Star Camera marketing blitz or no. I mean, it's only been a chapter and this lead's already pissing me off. He's a total wish-fulfillment type with a ridiculous yes-man complex to boot. Seriously, can this guy say no to _anything?"_

"… Y'know, I feel vaguely offended by that."

Asuka rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why."


	19. Hot Off the Presses

AN: I've come to the conclusion that GaiusXLaura is my preferred Class VII Gaius ship and GaiusXLinde is my preferred non Class VII Gaius ship.

I'm okay with both these things.

* * *

 **Hot Off the Presses**

Fortunately for her ears, Linde managed to grab the ringing ARCUS on her third try, carefully cradling the device between her neck and shoulder as she resumed examining the checklist in front of her. That little diversion, enjoyable as it was, had set her back a smidge. Or three.

"Hello?"

 _"_ _We have breaking news,"_ came a voice that never failed to make Linde smile, exasperating as the source was at times. _"The newest arrival to the Thors branch campus faculty was caught red-handed reuniting with a mysterious stranger from Nord! A friendly stroll? A salacious liaison? Only they know the truth, but rest assured, dear readers; there's more to this story than meets the eye!"_

And suddenly, Linde didn't much feel like talking on the phone anymore.

"First off," she sighed, steeling herself for what was to come, "Hi, Vivi."

 _"Hiya,"_ and she could just picture her twin sister leaning back in her chair with a giant grin on her face, pointedly ignoring the stares of her editors and her fellow newshounds. _"Did you have a fun time?"_

"I did, as a matter of fact. When and how?"

Vivi clucked her tongue on the other end of the line in playful disapproval. _"Now now, Linde! A good reporter doesn't reveal their sources~!"_

Had Linde been the same timid girl from their first year, she might have left that opening alone. Pity for Vivi that wasn't the case.

"I know they wouldn't," she said patiently. "I'm asking _you_ , though."

An indignant squawk and the unmistakable sound of someone falling gracelessly onto the floor blasted through the earpiece as clear as day, and Linde couldn't help but grin just a little. After all, what was some friendly payback between sisters, anyway?

 **"R-Rude!"** sputtered Vivi when she had (presumably) clambered back to her feet, and there was no doubt that she was pouting ferociously right now.

"Oh, I didn't say that out loud, did I?"

 _"Funny. You're gonna pay for that one, but we can worry about that later. Details, Linde! Spill!"_

"There's nothing to spill!" Linde protested, flushing ever so slightly. "Rean brought Gaius over to the medical office after they ran some kind of training exercise at Einhel Keep, I patched them both up and then we just… talked."

 _"And…?"_ her ever-persistent sibling probed expectantly, her anticipation palpable.

"There's no 'and' here, Vivi."

A frustrated noise. _"Ugh. That's so boring. You've come such a long way, I thought for sure you'd have tried to take advantage of that cute nurse's outfit of yours instead of just fluttering your eyes and going 'Oh Gaius, look how **tall** you've gotten' – "_

"C-Could you not?!" she yelped, her cheeks darkening into an all-out blush; old habits, it seemed, were difficult to truly get rid of. "Rean was there too, remember?"

 _"Ooh, tell me more...!"_

"... I'm ignoring that. Look, it was definitely great to see him again, I'm not going to deny it! It really had been too long, and catching up was a nice way to spend the afternoon. That said…"

 _"Yeah, yeah. Nothing juicy happened,"_ Vivi finished, sounding more than a bit disappointed. _"I gotcha. Phooey, I was hoping for something exciting to gossip about for our next girls' night out…"_

"I'm sorry to disappoint you then," Linde said with a fond laugh. "But then again, it's not like your version of events was any better, not unless you think all we talked about was how tall and handsome he's become."

She swore she could somehow _hear_ Vivi's grin come back with a vengeance, and her stomach dropped out from under her as she realized her mistake a second too late.

"U-Um – "

 _"Hmm. Y'know, I don't think I said anything about him being handsome, did I?"_

"I-I'm pretty sure you did… " she squeaked, trying valiantly to work her way out of this (and Goddess, how long had it been since she had squeaked?)

 _"Uh uh, nope! I'm actually looking through my notes right now,"_ Vivi told her triumphantly, papers being exaggeratedly rustled in the background, _"and I'm not seeing anything like that! I'm pretty sure that part was all you, sister of mine."_

"B-But – "

 _"This just in, we have an update from our intrepid field correspondent! Sources indicate that while the situation's still developing, there's **definitely** more to this story than what was first reported. Stay tuned for further developments!"_

"… I hate you."

 _"Love you too,"_ Vivi said, and in spite of herself Linde still smiled when she heard the sound of a kiss on the other end. _"Seriously though; next time we see each other we're talking about this till the sun comes up, got it?"_

"…"

 _"That's the spirit!"_

And with a final happy cheer, Vivi disconnected, leaving a blushing Linde staring at the all but forgotten checklist with a blank stare, the last part of the conversation playing in her head over and over again.

Her fellow club-mate really _had_ gotten handsome, hadn't he…?

"Ugh," she moaned, burying her face into her palms. "So much for not blushing around him anymore. Oh, I was doing so well, too..."


	20. Open Mouth, Insert Foot

AN: Because friends will always roast other friends and Machias' S-Craft line in CSIII is equal parts awesome and roastworthy.

* * *

 **Open Mouth, Insert Foot**

The sight of his four friends (three human, one feline) staring at him wordlessly after the battle had concluded should have been a warning sign in itself.

"What?" Machias asked, growing increasingly unnerved by the silence as the seconds ticked by. "Is something the matter?"

Emma cleared her throat and averted her eyes.

Rean coughed, one hand busily adjusting the collar of his jacket.

Alisa simply grinned.

Celine grinned harder.

And just like that, he understood. He wished with all his might that he hadn't, of course, but he did.

"… I said it out loud, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah," Celine replied merrily, sounding almost as if a fresh bowl of milk had been set down in front of her. "Y'sure did. 'You failed your inspection', huh? _Really?_ "

Goddess, it had sounded so much better in his head.

"Be honest," Alisa jumped in, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous sparkle as the painfully familiar blush began to spread across his cheeks. "How long have you been waiting to use that one?"

Celine cackled. "Since graduation?"

"Earlier, maybe."

"Hey, can you blame him?" Rean said, crossing his arms with a firm nod. "It's a good line."

Three pairs of disbelieving eyes - thank you for the support, Emma - immediately fixed themselves upon the Ashen Chevalier, who for his part could only chuckle weakly and turn his palms upwards in resignation.

"… Okay, it's not. But hey, the stuff you did with the guns was really – "

"Oh, yes! Y-Your marksmanship has certainly improved, Machias. You should be very proud," Emma hastily chimed in, the corners of her mouth curling upwards in spite of what must have been a furious attempt to fight the smile down.

Well, it was the thought that counted.

"I'll take the compliments in the spirit they were offered," Machias said with as much dignity as he could possibly muster under the circumstances. "So, are we done with this now?"

"Dunno," Celine mused. "I guess it depends on how many more inspections these critters plan to fail."

"Hmph. I suppose that's a no," he grumbled as Alisa broke into a fit of helpless giggles, slumping against a visibly amused Rean, and beside him Emma discreetly moved her lips next to his ear, whispering.

"You know… it could always be worse."

He rolled his eyes. "I fail to see how."

"Jusis," she said patiently. "Or Fie. Or Jusis **and** Fie."

He paused momentarily, shuddering as those horrifying possibilities sank in.

"And on second thought, you make a compelling argument."

"I usually do," she teased, punctuating her words with a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away and grasping his wrist, their companions none the wiser. "Come on. I'm sure this will be forgotten about before you know it. Besides, anymore sulking and we'll get left behind."

"I-I'm not sulking!"

"Mm-hmm. Whatever you say, Inspector."


	21. Perks of Cohabitation

AN: This shortfic is aimed to kill two birds with one stone in that it A: gets yet another Machias/Emma plot out of my head (and the crowd goes mild) and B: serves as proof that I can set out to write a story under 1000 words and actually succeed. I've been a little iffy at that lately :P

* * *

 **Perks of Cohabitation**

The sound of three sharp knocks on his door roused Machias from his fitful sleep, and when he raised his still tired eyes they were greeted with a blurred mass of colors and shapes that he could only presume was his temporary housemate.

"Emma," he greeted, his voice raspy and thin as he gingerly sat up. "Is it that time already?"

He was pretty sure she nodded, though it wasn't exactly easy to tell. Blast it all, where did he leave his glasses?

"All right, I'll be down in a few minutes. Thank you again for waking me up by the way, I really appreciate it."

She nodded again.

"Oh, before I forget; have you eaten already, or did you want to grab something on the way?"

Yet another nod, followed by a meow that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.

"U-Uh, no! I mean, no I haven't eaten yet," she stammered, sounding more flustered than she had in quite a long time. "W-We should make a quick stop for some breakfast after we leave. I'll meet you downstairs?"

"Of course," Machias answered, deciding that the coffee he was going to brew in a few minutes would taste much better after a quick shower and putting on his glasses far too late to catch the sight of Emma's bright red face as she left his room, Celine leisurely trailing after.

* * *

"So. That happened."

"…"

"I mean, it's understandable. It's his house, he's comfortable here and it was really warm last night. Who needs an extra layer like a shirt when it's so muggy already?" Celine asked rhetorically, not hiding her amusement as she saw Emma's blush start to deepen with every word, the fact she had been caught blatantly staring probably not helping matters.

(Not that she could be faulted for it. Much like everyone else in Class VII, the time since Thors had treated him ridiculously kindly).

"O-Of course! Like you said, it was stuffy the night before, it's something he's probably used to… "

"And it's not like something you haven't seen before."

"And it's not like something I haven't – I'm going downstairs."

Celine grinned when Emma caught herself, narrowed her eyes and fixed her with an expression that was probably supposed to be a glare but was far too embarrassed and pouty to have the desired effect. "Sure. You do that."

She merely sniffed indignantly in reply and started to walk down the stairs, her head held high in an attempt to preserve what little dignity she could.

"Hey," Celine called out, mindful to listen for when she heard her partner's feet hit solid floor instead of creaky steps. "Could have been worse, right? Maybe he's a little bit more than just shirtless next time, who knows?"

 ** _"C-CELINE!"_**

"She makes my job too easy sometimes," she chuckled, finally deciding to show mercy on her (very hot, bothered and according to her ears tripping over her own feet) partner and sauntering off toward an open window for her customary morning stroll, tuning out the outraged invective without a second thought. "Well, I can't say this place isn't entertaining. This is way better than staying at a hotel, and that's not even counting the milk and fish."


	22. Soften Them Up

AN: Written because Towa and George (and Crow, and Stefan+Dorothee) are fun, and hey; I still managed to keep it under my personal 1000 word threshold for Snapshot territory! Now, back to my rarepair contribution and more bookworm stuff (though technically the latter counts as part of the former :P)

* * *

 **Soften Them Up**

"Hey there, Towa."

The tiny brunette looked from her stack of paperwork, flashing a smile at the husky boy entering the Student Council room. "Hi yourself, George! W-Wait, what's all this?" she asked, eyes widening in surprise when he set down a paper bag and a still steaming mug of tea in front of Towa.

"Well," he began, chuckling warmly when he saw Towa peek into the bag and her eyes lit up at the selection of pastries from downstairs, "I got word from some anonymous tipsters that you were working yourself to the bone. Again."

(Not the most graceful way to go about things, but it'd work).

"Anonymous tipsters, hmm?" she repeated, shaking her head in fond exasperation even as she blushed. "I see. I don't suppose you'd have any idea who they might be?"

"'Course."

"Oh, good. Would you like to share?"

"No can do, otherwise they'd stop being anonymous. They do have a point, though."

She frowned at that, though the effect was somewhat lessened by her biting into an oversized cream puff. "They do not."

George raised an eyebrow and pointedly kept it raised, somehow holding in a snicker when she hastily wiped a bit of powdered sugar off her nose to keep from sneezing.

"… Okay," Towa finally conceded, letting her shoulders droop as she reached for her tea. "I can admit that it's been a little crazy lately. But it's nothing I can't handle, really!"

His eyebrow didn't drop a rige. "If you say so, but I'm pretty sure it's not normal for a first year to be taking on this much stuff."

Towa squirmed uncomfortably, a sign that his assessment was bang on. "M-Maybe not, but…"

"Look," he sighed, raising a hand to forestall any protest. "I know you're volunteering for all this and the council isn't taking advantage of you or anything, but there is such a thing as burning yourself out, especially considering what we've got coming up. Trust me, I've been there; caffeine hangover is no joke."

She smiled, knowing full well that George wasn't exaggerating. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the concern, and please tell your… uh, mysterious informants that I'll be all right. If I get tired or worn out, I promise I'll drop everything and get some rest, okay?"

He nodded, his serious expression lightening considerably. "Okay. We'll hold you to that, Towa."

"I wouldn't expect anything less!" she said with a laugh, reaching out to grab her pen and resume where she left off, and it took her a solid half-minute of scribbling before she realized that George hadn't moved a muscle.

"George? Was there something else?" she asked, watching as he coughed and turned his head to the side, looking for all the world like he was trying to avoid her gaze.

"Uh… yeah, actually." Gingerly reaching into the side pocket of his overalls, he retrieved a small piece of folded paper and set it down in front of her, immediately retreating toward the door afterward. "I also came here to drop that off, courtesy of Angie and Crow."

"Wait, really?" she asked, looking intrigued when she reached out to unfold the sheet. "They didn't mention anything when I saw them earlier. I wonder what _in the **world** **is** – _"

"So!" George said, his voice as chipper and bright as he could possibly make it and swallowing hard as he continued to shuffle toward the exit, the paper dropping from Towa's apparently nerveless fingers. "Uh… I hope the treats taste great! What do you think of your concert outfit, by the way?"

* * *

"It's very vexing that you're so good at this game when you claim to hardly even play," Stefan groused, flicking a glance at an infuriatingly unruffled Crow. "Why didn't you join this club again?"

He shrugged. "I had reasons. Not enough fringe benefits, for one."

Stefan rolled his eyes. "I don't even know what that means, but I should have known better than to ask. That said, I'll admit that it's good to play someone different once in a while, though I'm still confused as to what made you stop by today."

Crow snickered. "Killing time, my four eyed friend. George is dropping off a delivery and I'm kinda waiting to see how it'll turn out."

His hand hovered above a bishop. "How it'll turn out? What exactly do you mean by that?"

A second later, his ears were filled with an obscenely high pitched scream that he swore rattled the windows, and right after that the Chess Club door was flung open by a George Nome that looked like he had seen far better days.

"W-What the – ?!"

"Hey, Stefan. Crow?"

"Yeah?"

"Run."

"… Huh. I guess this means the goodies didn't – "

 **"Run."**

"Well, hope that answers your question. Thanks for the game!" and Stefan could only watch with mouth agape and ears ringing as his opponent hastily tipped over his king and followed his husky friend out the door, both boys sprinting toward the stairs like the hounds of Gehenna were at their heels. Across from his clubroom, he could Dorothee staring blankly back at him, her finger pointing toward the departing pair.

 _"Crow?"_ he mouthed, shrugging helplessly.

 _"Crow,"_ she mouthed back with a shrug of her own, having had enough experience with her fellow Class V'er to decide that yes; it made perfect sense.


End file.
